St. Landry democrat. (Opelousas, La.) 1878-1894, 1887-04-23
believe is that Nadine has had any inter-
| course with O thief
''As You have said, time will tell" re-
plies Lady Valworth, moodily
CHAPTER XIX.

Time, in so far as it brings them to the
next evening, has not told The secret
still lies within it's ancient breast 1t has
not yet disburdened itself, nor declared
aught that might heal the anxiety that
RACES in the flighty but kindly, heart of
Millicent Grey.
Twenty times during the day she had
approached Nadine with determination
to fire off all sorts of point blank batter
ies-meant to take the girl by storm-and
! twenty times she had been driven back.
routed with great slaughter by the inno-
cence of Madness lovely eyes No. she
could not ask question that would
make her friend unhappy, uneasy, dis
| trustful of the man whom, if she did not
love, she had at least elected to marry.
So the day wore on, and eyentide came
and died, and now night is on them, and
| once again Nadine is standing before her
! glass-a mirror that reaches from ceiling
to f1oor-regarding with ANXIOUS gaze
the lovely form that gazes back at her.
Once more she would be beautiful!
Once more she would be pleasant in his
eyes. His! In comparison with whom all
the world is poor.
Tonight her gown is blue. A pale cleo
trio blue, that throws into purer promin
enCe the startling fairness of her neck and
arms. She is lingering now, touching
her dress here, and moving q flower
there, debating all the while what orna-
ment shall nave the honor of lying on
her pretty bosom.
Some vague sense of evil had warned
her against the cross. No, she would not
wear that It had distressed dear Lady
Ealworth, had whitened her face and
made her kind lips stern; some Old mem
DRY, sad and angry, had been brought to
mind by it. Not only that first time when
she had given way to an exclamation,
but again that second time when he
Maurice-Mr. Duran-had led her up to
where she stood, Lady ValWorth had
seemed panied, sad, cold, unable to give
her the kindly smile that, up to the
wearing Of that luckless cross, had ever
greeted her No. certainly she will not
wear it-but--
There is the sapphire pendant That
lovely, sparkling thing that Paul, too
had given her, and that as yet has never
graced her neck. True, he had warned
her not to wear either it or the cross In
commoni He had got them through his
business in some strange way he had
failed to explain. They were valuable;
too valuable to be worn publicly as yet,
until he had made his fortune and hers.
Too valuable to be worn at Mrs. Brands,
for example. He had, indeed, made
her give her promise not to wear them at
Mrs. Brands, and she had faithfully kept
that promise
But there! He had not surely calcu
lated on the fact that she would ever b.
herein such a house as this. If he had
known, he would have been the first to
tell her to make herself look as charm
ing as was possible to her. He would
have had her no whit behind the rest
The very fact that she does not love him
has made her the more particular in the
matter Of obeying him, and now little
pang shoots across her heart as she Won
ders whether she had been deaf to his
desires when she hung that diamond
cross last night around her neck. Ger |
tainly 1t had brought her no delight
no luck. 1t had hurt Lady Valworth, her |
kind friend. 1t had hurt Duran, too, in |
some odd way. She could not tell how
exactly, but he had asked her one or two |
questions about it, and had refrained |
from praise of it, even when she laid it in
his palm for inspection.
No; not the cross. The sapphire pend
ant, rather. She lifts it from it's case,
and raises her arms above her head and
clasps it round her neck. AS she sees it
glittering upon her lovely skin, she
smiles sofay to herself, and bends for
ward full of girlish delight at the beauty
Of it, and tells herself that Lady Val
worth will be pleased to see her thus
bedecked out to do honor to the home
coming Of her son, Capt. Boyle-this
learly loved son, who, to Nadine, is as yet
unknown, but of whom she has heard so
much.
With last lingering glance at the
mirror, that gives her back her charms SO
,ruly, she leaves the room. AS yet it is
Early for the arrival of guests, and as she
Enters the huge ball room she finds it al
most deserted. The fiddlers are tuning
heir instruments in a mOnotonous lugu
,rious way, and one or two people are
angling at the lower end of the room.
The lights as yet are dim, and Nadine can
cacely see them. She walks quickly
n their direction, her heart beating
,ladly with sense of youth and joy, that
10 misery in the future has power to kill.
Is she draws nearer the laughter she can
ee that her two or three have developed
nto group. Duran is here, and Gerald
1assareene; Mrs. Brand and Mlllicent.
AS Nadine comes up to them some of
he servants turn up the lights to the !
ullsst, and quite a glow of brightness is
ung upon the room. Duran steps for :
7grd to greet Nadine. He says nothing '
? her, but only holds out his hand as if
4 welcome. In reality, the soft sweet
eauty of her has entered into him and
tricken him dumb. The lamps are shin {
lg upon her starry eyes, her red parted {
ps, her face SO like a flower. The
ainty, shy glance, that half bespeaks
ne praise and half decries it; the lovely
issable mouth, that would fain say,
Am not good to look at dear, my I
'veS' yet breads to say it; the bent, yet J
roud little head the tender, longing